


My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Absolutely Nothing)

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Non canon compliant, alcohol use, everyone is gay and trans, if you squint its a little bokuroo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 19:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4932697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma isn't really the type you would describe as a 'party person'</p>
<p>based on the <em>“We’re both aro/ace and keep meeting and making small talk at these stupid college parties when everyone else is smashed and making out. Wanna come back to my dorm and play a board game or something?” </em>prompt</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Absolutely Nothing)

**Author's Note:**

> Title half taken from Fall Out Boy's My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark because I'm unoriginal as hell.
> 
> gender/pronoun info:
> 
> \- Kenma is agender, they/them  
> \- Kuroo is a trans boy, he/him  
> \- Bokuto is a trans girl, she/her  
> \- Akashi is genderfluid, ne/nim/nir or they/them

Kenma has never understood the attraction of parties; they’re loud and frightening and full of _people_. If they had their way, they would never set foot in another smoke-ridden, alcohol-filled venue ever again.  Unfortunately, Kuroo has always been pretty good at convincing them to do things that they would otherwise avoid like the plague. He’s doing it again now, draped over their legs and pinching at their ear, voice an insistent whine. He’s currently in process of the fact that it’s been _forever_ since he went out and he’s so bored he might die. Kenma is missing a lot of the details – they’re a little busy trying to catch Kyogre, and their best friend’s complaints aren’t exactly new.

 At this point, they don’t even bother telling Kuroo to go without them. The only thing that ever achieves is a second string of wheedling, often longer than the first. And besides, last time Kuroo went out alone he’d come back with two thirds of his head shaved and a bar through his eyebrow. Kenma isn't sure if they’d be able to cope being seen with them if that happened again.

***

 It takes a little longer than usual to find the kitchen. The house Kuroo had ushered them into is large, full of sweaty people clutching tepid drinks and low-lit hallways that all look the same. Kuroo ducks down to their ear, whispering something about how rich the kid who lives here is, and how he hopes they look half as good their house. Kenma just grimaces and presses closer to the wall, doing their best to avoid brushing up against strangers.

When they eventually chance upon their goal, Kenma almost finds themselves thinking it was worth the trip. It’s a nice kitchen – white marble and chrome and bar stools that make them almost as tall as Kuroo. It’s a step up from the last kitchen they’d spent a night in, perched on the dirty bench top and distastefully eying the piles of unwashed dishes still in the sink.The party noise is muffled from in here, still a constant, but dim and detached. Kenma would much rather be at home, but it’s okay here. The least they can do for their best friend is let him get out sometimes – he sacrifices most opportunities for a social life because he knows situations like these make Kenma uncomfortable.

 The best friend in question already has his head in the fridge, waving away the ‘tsk’ growing in Kenma’s throat before they even have time to voice it.

 “Relax! It’s just a drink. It’s not like I’m stealing their valuables or deflowering their youngest child.” Grabbing a bunch of cans in one hand he waves them at Kenma. “What do you want? Coke or Mountain Dew?”

On principle, they know they should refuse. But they are sort of thirsty, and having something to hold always makes them feel a little calmer. With a small sigh of defeat, they run a hand through long hair.

“Is there juice by any chance?”

Kuroo wrinkles his nose, muttering something about how he can’t believe he’s friends with such an old man, but it doesn’t stop him pouring a glass of orange juice and handing it over. Cracking open the tab on his own can – some sort of alcoholic beverage that smells horrific and likely tastes even worse, if Kenma’s (very limited) experience is anything to go by – he leans back against the bench.

 

“Well, I’ve gotta say I’m impressed. This is one damn fine kitchen.”

With a roll of their eyes, Kenma shoves at his shoulder. They know he wants to be out with everyone else, join of the party, but they also know he’s reluctant to leave them alone.

“Just go already.” They grumble, hoping he can’t see how secretly pleased they are. “You’re too loud. Make sure you don’t drink as much as last time. There’s no way in hell I’m carrying you back to the apartment by myself after you fall asleep.”

A half shrug and a curling grin are their only answer, and they have to resist the urge to pinch their nose and sigh, knowing just how many ‘grandpa’ comments that would elicit.

 

Kuroo exits stage left, waving his phone and reminding them to call if they get anxious, or if strangers try and hit on them, or they can’t find the bathroom. Kenma waves it all away with a lazy hand, retrieving their DS from the depths of their – previously Kuroo’s – large sweater. Taking a sip of juice, they slot in a game and shift around on the moulded plastic stool, legs just a little too short to comfortably rest on the crossbar.

They’re quickly immersed within their game, taking the opportunity of seclusion to turn the sound up as loud as they like it. They find the sound effects make it easier to concentrate, despite how incredibly irritating and repetitive the background music tended to be. A quick wander around the town in search of weeds, and they’re good to go, plucking apples from the ground and tending to the flowers. It’s midway through the process of checking up on their favourite villages when they hear approaching footstep from the hallway.

Instinctively hitting the power button, they grope for their phone. Fingers closing around the comforting device, they shrink back into their chair, wary gaze trained on the currently turning doorknob. It seems to take an age to complete its rotation, Kenma’s eyes trailing slowly from the slim wrist and upwards, finally meeting the stare of a somewhat startled looking stranger. 

“Oh um, sorry.” The other is the first to speak, hovering awkwardly in the balance between kitchen and hallway. Their voice is soft and low – unthreatening, but Kenma’s heart isn’t accepting that as a legitimate reason to return to it’s usual lazy beating.

Regarding the intruder warily, they wait for a continuation of this explanation. They’ve become closely acquainted with their fair share of kitchens at parties like these, but never before has one of them contained an entire other _person._ Observing the simple white blouse and floral skirt that swished about the knees of said being, Kenma deduces they must be lost. Looking for a bathroom perhaps? 

In theory, this was the point when the trespasser would apologise and leave, and Kenma would stop clutching their phone so tightly that permanent tissue damage wouldn’t be surprising. However, the stranger chooses to, once again, defy expectations. Soft footsteps bring them closer, the door swinging shut with a gentle click.

It’s at this point Kenma begins to wonder whether hitting someone over the head with a DS or with a phone would be more effective. Due to both weight and aerodynamic design, the DS is looking like the winning choice, up until the point where the person is straightening their skirt and peering into the fridge, retrieving the very same juice that’s sweating at Kenma’s side.

 

A few awkward glances as they attempt to locate a glass, and then ne’s finished and nir attention is back on the small blonde, who currently appears to be attempting to crush themselves into as little a space as possible. Awkwardly clearing nir throat, ne maintains nir distance, leaning back against the fridge. A few long moments of silence and an almost stare-off is all it takes for nim to give in and speak once more.

“So. Hello? I’m Akaashi? I don’t think we’ve met before?”

Kenma’s mind is torn between wondering why all of ‘Akaashi’s’ statements sound like questions and mulling over whether this counts as someone hitting on him and is a viable reason to call in the cavalry. Sure, they’re wearing floral print, and don’t appear overtly threating. Kenma is sure people thought the same about that guy in Fight Club too. And that didn’t stop him killing them.

Shifting slightly once again, Akaashi begins to realise that answers don’t seem overtly forthcoming. The delicate, startled looking person continues to stare through a curtain of bleached hair, appearing as though they might be on the verge of fleeing. Akaashi considers leaving – it’s obvious their presence is making the other uncomfortable – but honestly, ne’s not sure where else there is in this house to hide.

“I’m sorry for intruding.” An apology seems in order. Followed by an explanation. “See I … don’t really like these sort of things. My friend, she dragged me along. I was just looking for somewhere a little quieter.”

 

Some of the tension eases from Kenma’s shoulders at this account. They know all too well how it feels to be in that situation – and although this Akaashi fellow isn’t getting of the hook that easily, they seem to be telling the truth.

“I’m Kenma.” That’s all they’re offering at the moment, accompanied by a small gesture at the ‘They/Them’ badge adorning their jacket. Kuroo had made it, stitching (very messy) letters over Ironman’s face. In all honesty, Kenma still wasn’t sure about their feelings on it, but it was useful for situations like these.

Akaashi’s eyes widened in recognition, and ne brightened a little, happy in the realisation that all current occupants of this kitchen were some degree of trans.

“Oh! I use ne/nim/nir, or they/them as well, if the others are too difficult.”

_This_ has Kenma slowly uncurling to better look a nim, head tilting to the side. It wasn’t often – in fact it was barely ever – they received a reply along those lines to the pronouns badge. Most of the time, it was some level of derogatory, and usually ended in Kuroo making threats.

“I – I’ve never heard those ones before. Can … could you maybe write them down?”

New words are hard to get their head around sometimes, but they know just how good it feels when someone uses the pronouns you like, so they wait quietly as Akaashi nods, pulling a pen from nir wallet. Pulling a napkin from the open packet on top of the fridge, ne writes in large block letters.

 

Ne hesitates a little once it’s done, unsure of how Kenma will react if approached. They don’t seem to understand the reason for nir confusion, only continuing to regard the situation with owlish eyes. A small tilt of nir head towards the light blue sheet, and Akaashi voices the question. “Ah, is it okay if I come over and give this to you?”

A pause, as Kenma turns this over in their head. They think they might like this Akaashi. Most of the time, people don’t bother to ask, simply barging in with their loud voices and too close hands. Akaashi though, is still waiting, one hand bunched in nir skirt as the other hovers above the napkin. A short nod is all Kenma gives in answer, and then there’s a flurry of footsteps and a handover of documents, before Akaashi is carefully returning to nir spot against the fridge.

Another awkward silence looms on the horizon, but this time it’s Kenma who chooses to pre-empt it.

“Why are you here instead of out there? There – Usually there isn’t anyone else in this sort of place.”

 

It’s with a self-conscious laugh that Akaashi finds nimself answering truthfully, hand creeping up to rub at the short hair curling at the base of nir neck. “Ahh, like I said before, I really don’t like these things. I don’t drink very much, and I’m sort of – like, those things –“ here, ne gestures vaguely in the direction of the door, an action Kenma takes to mean the general party activities, “- don’t really appeal. People trying to flirt with me makes me uncomfortable and I don’t really … have sex.” Ne trails off, a little awkward. Kenma seems pretty understanding, but ne knows being asexual is something that tends to be looked down on even by fellow non-heterosexuals.

Ne needn’t have worried however – the other is already shrugging, fiddling with the device in their hands.

“Me neither. I don’t even like people touching me much.”

 

Truthfully, Kenma is a little glad they got dragged along to this party, however. While there was still a small possibility that Akaashi was an axe murderer, ne seemed like an accepting sort of axe murderer. They were in the midst of gathering the courage to ask for a DS friend code, or even if the other played Love Live, when a sudden commotion erupted into the hallway.

 

Loud voices, laughing, broke through the silence. Both kitchen occupants stiffened, but Kenma relaxed within moments, flapping a hand at Akaashi.

“It’s okay. It’s my friend.” 

Indeed, as soon as the words had left their mouth, the door was flying open, a tousled mop of black hair swinging in through the gap. “Kenmaaaaa~~” The smaller person was almost immediately subjected to an onslaught of nuzzling, Kuroo’s cheek rubbing against their own, followed by a large, wet kiss.

 “Eck, Kuro, that’s disgusting! Stop, you smell gross!” their halfhearted attempts to push their best friend off are entirely unsuccessful, as he mumbles jumbled phrases into their neck.

Over by the fridge, Akaashi was feeling more than a little awkward. The sudden appearance of this tall, wild haired person – who seemed to be attempting to fold the entirety of his long-limbed body onto Kenma’s lap – was making nim wonder just where nir own wild haired counterpart had gone. 

 

The answer to nir question came a _lot_ sooner than expected. A whine of “Kuroo-sannnn…. Kuroo-san come backkkkkk …” from the hallway had nir eyes rolling. Slipping out of the room, they blinked as nir eyes adjusted to the low lighting, only to find Bokuto lying face down on the floor, cheek pressed into the carpet and eyes half lidded.

“Kurooo-saaannnn,” the wail came again, dramatically dripping from the corner of her mouth that wasn’t crushed against the ground. Shaking nir head, Akaashi rolled nir eyes. “Bokuto-san. What the hell are you doing?” At this, the floor slug collapsed onto her side, eyes wide and amazed. “An angel! An angel that looks like Aka!” Bokuto’s level of movement is surprisingly rapid, and in a few short moments she’s clutching at Akaashi’s legs, eyes wide and gleeful.The sigh that emanates from nir mouth is long and world weary, as ne turns, shuffling back in the direction of the doorway, as rapidly as one can with a fully grown person attached to one of nir limbs.

When ne crans nir neck to observe within, ne finds that Kenma and Kuroo have joined the floor party, stool lying on its side a few steps away. Kuroo has his arms latched around the others middle, as they struggle to extract themselves from the frenzy of nuzzling.

 “Kenma-san.”

 

 Stilling at nir voice, Kenma looks up, clearly surprised – Akaashi got the impression they had completely forgotten about nir presence.

 “I’m assuming he’s yours?” a nod in affirmation, and ne continues. “I’ve got mine here too –“ all that is currently visible of Bokuto are her hands, wrapped around nir ankle; Kenma observes, and they understand, giving nim a small look of pity, “- how are you two getting home?”

A glance at their phone lets Kenma know they’ve missed the last run of the trains – though if they hurry, they might have enough time to get the subway. However, one look at Kuroo’s face, currently pillowed in their lap, lets them know they’re not going to be moving anywhere at a particularly rapid rate. 

“I think we’ll probably just have to catch a taxi –“ but Akaashi is already shaking nir head.

“No, no, don’t worry. I have a car out the back, I can drop the two of you home.”

 

Kenma does remember all those warning about not taking candy from strangers and everything, but they’re pretty much convinced Akaashi _isn’t_ an axe murderer at this point. Besides – if they can skip out on the taxi fee, by the end of the week they’ll have enough money for the new Zelda game.

The decision is easy enough.

 

***

 

It doesn’t take long to get to Kenma and Kuroo’s apartment. Akaashi drives slowly, Kenma on the passenger side, giving directions. In the back, soft snores and the occasional snatch of sleep talk provide a constant reminder of the other occupants. When the car pulls into a space, Kenma slides from their seat, leaning back to shake Kuroo’s shoulder.

“Hey. Hey Kuroo. Kuroo wake up.”

Their response is a mumble and a weak hand that rises to bat at their own. Kenma persists, however, shaking with a little more force this time.

“Kuroo! Get up! Hey fuckcat – god I’m never going out with you ever again.”

 

In the end, Akaashi has to chip in too, one on either arm, dragging him out of the seat and dumping him unceremoniously on the cold cement. _That_ gets a reaction – a yowl that would sound better coming from a feline, and a dark glare as he cradles the back of his head. Everything appears to be going swimmingly, right up until Bokuto launches herself from the car in order to cling to Kuroo. No amount of tugging can detach her, all threats Akaashi makes answered only with a sleepy “Wanna go with Kuroo-san.”

 

It’s around 2am that Kenma admits defeat, rubbing the heels of their palms against overtired eyes. A glance at Akaashi lets them know that ne is in much the same state. A sigh, and they gently tug at nir skirt sleeve, nir head rising in reply.

“Do you just want to come up? We can … play monopoly or something. Those two will probably follow. If they don’t … well honestly I couldn’t care less at this point.”

 

Now it’s Akaashi’s turn to question whether ne is stepping into an axe murder situation – but honestly ne is tired as hell and very cold and even if ne is about to die, ne wants to die warm.

Ne’s in the elevator ahead of Kenma, very prepared for the possibility of sleep. Bokuto and Kuroo stumble in on their tail, and then the gang’s all here. And once they finally reach their destination - despite best intentions and a half laid out monopoly board - the gang’s all asleep.


End file.
